


His Master's Voice

by havisham



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Acceptance, Dogs, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Post-Canon, Trick or Treat: Treat, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12309696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: In the dead of night, Laurie hears a familiar -- but impossible -- sound.





	His Master's Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greerwatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerwatson/gifts).



Laurie woke to the sound of small claws clicking against the wooden floors. Without thinking, he held out his hand and smiled when he felt the wetness of his dog’s tongue. “Come up, boy,” he said sleepily, patting the space between him and the edge of the bed, but Gyp didn’t make the jump. As Laurie began to wake, he realized why, of course. 

Gyp was dead and Laurie was surely alone in the room. He sat up in bed and groped for some light, fear mixing with a queer sort of joy. When the light came on, he found that he was alone. Gyp -- or rather, his ghost -- was nowhere to be seen. 

Laurie wasn’t surprised to see Ralph up and in the kitchen -- he’d even managed to run a comb through his hair, which was better than Laurie, as tousled as ever, could do. He gratefully accepted the warm cup of tea Ralph handed to him.

“Couldn’t sleep, Spuddy?” Ralph asked him, his voice more tender now in the unguarded hours of the night than it usually was. 

“I couldn’t,” Laurie said. And then, still dreamily, he asked, “Ralph, do you think that the dead can ever return to the living?” 

Ralph took some time in replying. “You’ve heard then.” 

Laurie straightened up. “And so have you?” 

“Don’t look so doubtful, Spuddy. Of course I’d notice if something started growling at me, or if my slippers went missing.” 

“But that can’t be Gyp’s doing,” Laurie said. “He _was_ a good dog.” 

“He loved his master, anyway,” Ralph said. “Good night, dear.” 

When Laurie went back to bed, he felt a definite chill in the air. Perhaps it had been foolish to insist Ralph sleep in the guest bedroom anyway. But here, in this house, with his mother liable to drop by unexpectedly at any time -- well, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. But still, he was lonely, there was no doubt about it. He shivered. And cold -- it was bitterly cold. 

Even when he scrambled to get under his blankets, the chill persisted and stopped him from falling asleep. Laurie lay awake, his mind fretfully picking at the events of the day before, spinning this and that out to the most dreadful conclusions. Often, those conclusions would be death, either his or Ralph’s. In an air raid, or by some other means, but it didn’t matter.

The fear and panic that rose in Laurie’s throat was the same. 

It was then that he heard a soft rustle of sound on the ground near him. He reached out blindly and felt the brush of warm fur against the tip of his fingers. “I can’t get down there, Gyp, old boy,” Laurie said, feeling a little silly as he did so. “You’ll have to come up.” 

He heard a scramble of paws against the floor and suddenly Laurie felt a bounce on his bed. He still couldn’t see Gyp, but that was all right. He could feel his presence well enough. Cautiously, he rans his hands across what he supposed was Gyp’s back. The fur felt warm and he could feel Gyp’s breathing against his fingers. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” Laurie said softly. “Will you forgive me, Gyp?” 

In the larger scheme of things, Gyp’s death had been a relatively small part of Laurie’s war, but he still mourned over it, months after the war had ended. It had felt so cruel and petty, and preventable in ways that his injuries, his pain didn’t seem to be. It wasn’t that he blamed his mother -- at least, he didn’t blame her too much. She had always had a clear head about these things. Perhaps Laurie had inherited his soft heart and his confusion from his father instead. 

It was unlikely that Gyp -- or his ghost -- would forgive him now, and perhaps Laurie was a fool for even trying. But he had to try. So he did, holding the little space in front of him carefully and saying goodbye to Gyp for the very last time. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta!


End file.
